Fifty Memorable Stitches On My Mind
by weapon13WhiteFang
Summary: An AU collection of Freddy/Nancy centric stories. One-shots to minifics. Rated for disturbing images, gore, violence, unspeakable taboo, sexual encounters, and overall dark themes.
1. Lie

**Disclaimer: D**o not own the movie _A Nightmare on Elm Street_, or any of its characters. Property of New Line/Warner Bros., Wes Craven, Platinum Dunes, and whoever else...

**Author's Note:** I decided to join the Freddy/Nancy AU with my friend **Type Unique Pen Name Here**, for **au50** at insanejournal. I just started this and I hope I do it right. And, another note, like my friend, I will probably NOT be doing this in numerical order.

**Chapter Warnings/Notes: **Taboo subject and images

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><p><strong>07. Lie.<strong>

"I've been here before," Nancy whispered, her body shaking and her voice quivering lightly.

"_If you can keep a secret, I'll take you to a special place."_

She felt cold. Where had that come from? Who... Was that him? Was that image of him? Stepping deeper into the hidden room, her flashlight slowly scanned across the wall. It was covered. Covered in childish drawings. Some with yellowing paper. Some looking as if they had just been placed on the wall. Drawings. _Their_ drawings. The Badham kids drawings... _Her _drawings.

She felt her stomach drop as she realized that most, if not almost all, of these drawings where hers. She had drawn them. And he... He had kept every single one. Posting them on his wall like trophies almost. Signs of their trust, _her_ trust.

_"That is so good"_

Signs of his lies.

_"You know what I got some other drawings. And they're like really bad drawings. Maybe, you can help me fix them?"_

She remembered having some of those drawings. He had drawn her and him. They really had been childish and more scribble like than her own. One truth under many false promises, false soothing words and kisses to her temple.

_"It's OK, little Nancy. I'm sorry it hurts... The first time is always the worse. Don't cry. I promise I'll make it better."_

Her stomach lurched and her heart beat hard and painfully against her ribcage. Her vision was blurring, as she passed the light over a large drawing, painted in blood red paint, on the wall. Had it really been paint even?

_"Go ahead, Nancy. I wont tell. You can paint whatever you want on my wall."_

That dress had gotten dirty. They had thrown paint at each other in play. He must have planned it then, she thought sickly, recalling how he slowly removed her red covered dress, fingers grazing across her young, childishly pudgy, skin. How he had shook as she stood in her _Pocahontas _underwear and little white shoes in the cold secret cave... The things he did...

The flashlight almost dropped from her hand. She sucked in air, shaking, trying to keep herself from crying right there. No! Why...? Where were these memories coming from? This had to be a mistake... These memories.. It's like something was trying to tell her that...

_"This will be our little secret, OK? You have to promise not to tell. Do you promise to be a good girl and not tell, little Nancy?"_

Pain. A painful feeling. She could recall crying. Wanting the pain to stop. A husky, but soft voice, whispering that everything would be OK. Hands holding her close. More pain. Lots now. Nancy grabbed at her hair and tugged, shaking her head, as nausea overwhelmed her and she pressed her forehead to the wall and threw up.

_"Its OK, little Nancy. Lots of special friends do this." "Stop-Stop screaming! D-Don't cry! Stop it!" "You're my number one girl, you know that Nancy?"_

"No," she groaned, head swimming, barely aware of Quentin's hands leading her to sit on the dirty old mattress. No! Not here. She couldn't sit here! All these memories... These thoughts! So many of them on this disgusting bed! Nancy quivered and whimpered, actually whimpered, as soon as she was on the bed.

_"It only feels funny at first but I promise you'll start to feel really good, Nancy." "Stay on the bed! I told you to stay on the bed, dammit!" "Just t-try to breath slowly th-through your nose, b-baby girl... Yes, j-just like that."_

"Oh, God...," tears slid down her cheek, as she clutched her knees, shaking violently, barely feeling Quentin's hand on her back. Him asking her what was wrong. She almost didn't see the pictures clutched in his hand. Her eyes slowly focused in on the one on top.

_"You have to stand like this, OK? So I can get a good picture of you. Can you do that?" _

"W-We were wrong," Nancy whispered, her voice hoarse from trying to hold back the waterfall of tears and sobs of anguish. Quentin clutched the pictures before turning them over. "I know... I-I know..."

Nancy took in a shuddering breath once more, hiccuping and clinching her leg harder. "He's not after us because we lied... H-He's after us because w-we told the truth... We told the truth...," her voice became small, as Quentin slammed the pictures into the shoe box, cursing and jumping from the bed.

_"If you can keep a secret, I'll take you to a special place."_

'_Liar!'_ Nancy inwardly hissed, closing her eyes, unable to look at the walls of the "special place", of his "Secret cave". Too much pain. Too many... Too many painful lies.

Too many.


	2. Crimson

**Disclaimer: **Do not own the movie _A Nightmare on Elm Street_, or any of its characters. Property of New Line/Warner Bros., Wes Craven, Platinum Dunes, and whoever else...

**Author's Note:** I decided to join the Freddy/Nancy AU with my friend **Type Unique Pen Name Here**, for **au50** at insanejournal. I will NOT be doing this in numerical order. This one was a little... Off for me. But this is a challenge, and no one can say I didn't try, right?

**Chapter Warnings/Notes: **Blood, sexual images, taboo scene.

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><p><strong>10. Crimson<strong>

She was so beautiful when she was terrified.

The way her blue eyes, tinted with red from lack of sleep, glistened with fresh tears and widen with fear. How her body trembled and lips parted in a ready scream. How her dark chocolate brown locks splayed across the pure white pillow.

Beautiful.

"I hate-hate you," she sobbed, trying to pull on the invisible restraints that held her arms above her head. Always struggling. She hadn't struggled much when she was five. All he had to do was say it was a game and she'd lay still, wide eyed and curious, only making a sound or crying when he would get too rough, losing his own control. Now she was always struggling. He wasn't sure what he liked to see more.

"I know," he rasped, emotionless, as he lowered himself on top of her, pressing his lifeless, heartless, chest, feeling her heart beat frantically against her own ribcage; a sick reminder that he was dead and she wasn't. She should be. She should die for tattling. For getting him killed. For breaking her promise.

"_Can you keep this a secret?" he stared down at her underneath him. Her nose and eyes wet, her little cheeks red and her expression full of pain and confusion. "Can you, little Nancy? Can you promise to keep this our little secret?" Little Nancy. Always wanting to make him happy. She nodded softly, and he smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. "That's my baby girl."_

Anger boiled his coagulated blood, sending a flame of hatred through him. She hadn't kept her promise! She had promised and she lied. Blind rage filled him long enough for him to sit up and straddle her waist, his clawed hand slashing at the material of his favorite dress.

She screamed as he nicked and pulled at her skin as well, leaving deep, red, cuts across her stomach, her collar bone, across the soft mounds of her breast, as he threw the dress away, catching himself. No. He couldn't do that. He couldn't kill her now. That would be to easy. He'd waited to long for this moment.

He growled low in his throat as he stared down at his work, watching as he blood, flowing and fresh, slide freely from his marks on her skin. He watched the way they pooled down her side. How some trickled between the valley of her exposed breast and pooled onto her stomach.

She looked good in the crimson ribbons of her own blood.

"Nancy," he whispered in his deep and graveled voice, staring down at her. Her eyes were closed tight, head turned to the side like she was trying to inch away from him and block out everything, to block out the pain and his presence. With the same gentleness he used when she was five and crying, he reached down and held her head between his arms, forcing her head to face him.

She sputtered and whimpered in pain, as he pressed his chest once again against hers, pressing her cut breast down, spreading the gashes, causing the crusted blood of her cut to break, sending another small wave of ribbons of blood down her body and sides of her breast, staining into his dirty, itchy, sweater. He lowered his face to her collar bone, sniffing her stained skin, savoring the sunflower and liquid copper scent, before trailing his tongue along the cut.

Nancy let out a strangled cry, whimpering in disgust as her lapped up her flowing crimson life, savoring how she still tasted the same, even if she no longer smelled it. "P-Please! N-No more... S-Stop...," she was dry heaving, her voice sounding strained and dry from screaming and crying, as he licked up to her throat, leaving a trail of blood and saliva.

His face hovered over hers, his hot, foul, breath brushing against her tightly shut lips as he trailed his index claw down a tear stain trail, puncturing the skin lightly, mixing blood and tears, watching as the blood and salty tear residue slide down her cheek.

"It's OK, little Nancy," he chuckled, his voice taking on the same soft tone he had used on her when she was five, his index claw trailing down her cheek, her neck, digging into the skin, making her hiss at the papercut like sting. "I'm sorry it hurts... The first time is always the worse." A smirk spread across his burnt lips, as her heart pounded hard against her ribcage and echoed against his empty one, her eyes darting wildly, her hands pulling harder at the restraints as he slid down to her the _Pocahontas _panties he had put her in.

"Don't cry. I promise, _I'll make it better,_" he laughed over her screams as he cut into her skin, ripping the undergarment from her body, more of her crimson life flowing to pool between her legs from the cuts above her womanhood.

"All better for my little Nancy."


	3. Mirror

**Disclaimer: **Do not own the movie _A Nightmare on Elm Street_, or any of its characters. Property of New Line/Warner Bros., Wes Craven, Platinum Dunes, and whoever else...

**Author's Note:** I decided to join the Freddy/Nancy AU with my friend **Type Unique Pen Name Here**, for **au50** at insanejournal. I will NOT be doing this in numerical order.

**Chapter Warnings/Notes: **Sexual Content

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><p><strong>28. Mirror<strong>

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," Nancy shivered, her head whipping back and fourth, her arms crossed, clutching her towel tightly against her form, as everywhere she looked she saw herself. Mirrors. Mirrors all around her. Above her, below her, all around. "Who's the fairest of them all."

He sounded so close. His voice was almost like a whisper of breath against her ear. But no matter where she turned, she couldn't see him, she could just feel him. He was close, but distant. Shaking, she pulled her towel up and pushed some wet strands of her hair out of her face. She had just finished taking a shower.

She had just wrapped the fluffy red towel around her body after drying off, when a loud clap of thunder and lightning, coming from nowhere, seeing as it wasn't even raining or anything outside, startled her, causing her to fall back into the shower, ramming her elbow against the slick wall.

Then, suddenly, the sliding door slammed shut, and the shower head suddenly turned on full blast. Hot, scalding water began pouring down onto her, burning her. Gaining her balance, the towel still clutched around her form, she tried to pry open the sliding glass door, slamming her shoulder and hands into the glass.

The water began to completely fill up. It wasn't draining? She looked down and gasped as she saw the drain was gone. The water was coming out so fast, that it was now past her kneecaps. It was so hot! It burned! She screamed, hoping someone, her father, Quentin, anyone, would hear her! But she'd been home alone. No one could have heard her.

The water was now to her waist. Panic was kicking in full force now! She searched, aimlessly, around, hoping to find something to break the glass with! Screaming in frustration and fear, she once again began to pound on the wall and glass, kicking at it with the sole of her foot.

The water seemed to become hotter, boiling and bubbling like she was in some kind of pot, as the water reached her shoulders. She reached up the shower head, coughing and hissing as it burned her skin while she tried to use it to pull her up and keep her head above the water. Her fingers slipped, and she barely let out a scream, before she fell, being engulfed by the water!

She'd kicked her feet and tried to swim up as darkness engulfed her and the light above her head, where she needed to be, started to move up, further and further away from her. She kicked and thrashed frantically, trying to reach the surface. The little air in her lungs was giving away, and she could feel the burning need to breath overtaking her!

'I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!' Just as she'd felt that her life was over, the water began to rapidly swirl around her. It was like someone had pulled plug! She kicked up and up, fighting to get to the closer approaching surface. She clawed, her vision almost darkening, when she finally broke surface, gasping and coughing as the air contracted and burst into her aching lungs.

Sputtering and shaking, she shakily felt her body lurch and fall onto a smooth surface, her vision blurry and burning as she pulled herself, weakly, out of the water, on her hands and knees breathing as she slowly regained her sight, startled to find she was staring down at herself. Looking up, all she saw was multiple reflections of herself.

And that had been what felt like hours ago. She had tried to break the mirrors, had tried to find some kind of opening to get out. But she couldn't find any. She couldn't find one single way out. And it was hot. Very hot. Her skin had dried and now her hair was frizzy and damp, sticking to her neck and back.

"Nancy," he whispered, his voice sounding like it was above her, as she whipped her head up, only seeing herself. His chuckle of cruel delight echoed around around her. "Let me go you sick fuck!" she screeched. running to the mirror in-front of her, slamming her fisted hands into the glass.

She watched as it cracked under the force she applied to her fists, a wave of hope being dashed from her as the cracks suddenly disappeared. "No!" she screamed, slamming her fist again, shaking in fear and anger as each crack she made disappeared, until she cried out as her fist were sliced against one of the slowly closing large crack.

She pulled back her hands as they shook, staring at the large, but not deep, gashes up the side to her pinky fingers, watching blood trickle down the sides and onto the mirror floor. Wincing, she wiped her hands on her towel, hissing as some of the fluffy material stuck to her skin.

"Little Nancy," her eyes widened, as she watched in the mirror in-front of her, as, like the time he had stabbed and taken her mother, she sauntered through the mirror behind her, his reflection only in-front of her and nowhere else.

She whipped around to face him, her hands held of in-front of her in protection. He swayed slightly on his feet, his hands at his side as he flicked his middle and index blades together, the sound echoing off the walls. "Didn't I tell you it isn't safe to play around broken glass, little Nancy?" he taunted, as beside her, to the left, the mirror flickered and an image of her younger self reaching down to pick up a broken bottle glass piece.

_"Nancy! No!"_ She watched as her younger self cut her finger on the glass. She whimpered as blood began to pool at the tip, before strong, gloved, male hands grasped her wrist and pulled her back, before they reached down and picked up the glass and tossed it in a trashcan. _"Don't ever do that, OK? You never play around broken glass or pick it up! You get hurt and could get sick from it."_

The Freddy of her childhood, his voice sounding so soft and gentle back then, pulled out a Kleenex and carefully dabbed at her cut finger as her younger self cried. "_S-Sorry, Mr Fweddy,"_ she hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. _"I won't do it again. I pwomise..." _her younger self's voice trailed off, as the image disappeared.

"Naughty girl," he chuckled, suddenly right in-front of her. "You broke another promise." Nancy's breathing became ragged, as her body felt frozen and she slowly raised her hands up to show him the large gashes. She tried to lower her arms as his burnt flesh hand touched hers, the calloused and peeling skin feeling strange against her smooth skin, as he gripped her wrists and pulled her hands closer and wrapped his mouth around the side where the cut was, pulling a hiss from her, as his burnt tongue lavished the blood oozing from it.

She tried to pull away as he released her tingling cut from his lips, and smirked, her blood on his lips, as he yanked her forcefully, once again, closer to his body. She was now only a hairs length from his body, unable to move, as his gloved hand suddenly clasp her face, the blades digging into her skin, as he firmly held her gaze on him. His cruel, mismatched eyes bore into hers as she tried to pull back without cutting herself.

Struggling, Nancy let out a cry as she was somehow able to move her hands and push at his chest, causing him to grunt as she hissed when his claws cut at her face. She stumbled back, trying to catch her balance, only to be suddenly, painfully, be slammed back against the glass wall behind her. She groaned at the pain, only to whimper as his flesh hand shot up to grip her throat.

"Shouldn't play so rough, Nancy," he growled, squeezing just enough to startle her, before swinging her around, causing her to stumble back and land in the center of the mirror room on her back, crying out as what looked like hands, pushed out the mirror and wrapped around her wrist and legs. "You might get hurt," he growled, as she kicked and thrashed, trying to pull free and sit up, only to be slammed back against the ground as Freddy, with cat like agile, pushed off the ground and pounced onto of her, pinning her down with his weight, as the hands held her in place.

"S-Stop! N-No! L-Let me go!" she wailed, trying to push up and buck him off. Her stomach lurched as he groaned and ground his hips down, her eyes widening. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself to melt through the mirror floor and away from him as he straddled her waist.

Above her, he took in her appearance. Took in how flushed her skin was, the way her damp hair was splayed out on the reflective surface, the way the small cuts on her face from his glove were covered in slowly coagulating blood. He slide his clawed index finger up her side, pulling at the fluffy material of the towel, as he leaned down and nuzzled his face against her neck, smelling her skin.

Nancy let out a breath of air, shuddering, as his rough, decaying, skin rubbed against her neck, feeling the outline of the rip in the side of his face. Her breath caught as she felt his middle and index claw slide up the front of her stomach and to the top. "Little Nancy," he growled against her neck. "Let's see how much you've grown!"

Nancy screamed, her eyes wide and her body jerking, as he ripped the towel from her body, exposing her fully naked body to him. "Well well," he rasped, his claw digging into the skin between the valley of her breast. "Little Nancy _is _all grown up."

Nancy cried, tears falling freely, as he leaned forward and bit at the side of her breast, his flesh hand kneading roughly at her other. She tried to curl her body away, tried to move her legs to kick at him. But nothing worked. Her eyes snapped open as she felt his knee press up between her legs, moving the rough material against her bear opening. She shuddered and gaped, whimpering loudly as she he bit up to her face, roughly slamming his mouth against hers.

She screamed against his lips, gagging as his tongue invaded her mouth, the taste of burnt, rancid, meat overwhelming her taste-buds, as she tried to push his tongue out with her own, biting down on the invading appendage, only for him to bite her lip with his yellow, crooked teeth, drawing blood. She whimpered as he tugged on her bottom lip, releasing it roughly.

Blood trickled lightly in her mouth as she panted and tried to pull free, freezing as she heard the sound of his zipper being undone. "N-No!" she screamed, as her thrashing became animalistly wild, not caring if she hurt herself. She needed to get away! She wouldn't let hi-Ooh!

Her mind froze as he leaned forward and bit her shoulder, gripping her waist roughly, as she felt something pushing slowly, but persistently at her entrance. She jerked her head and cried out in pain. "D-Don't! P-Please, do-don't do thi-this!" she whispered, trying to kick at his back, grunting in pain as the movement sent a painful ripple through her southern region, earning a raspy chuckle, sounding like sandpaper rubbing against each other.

"Don't worry, little Nancy," he groaned, leaning down to bite at her earlobe. "this won't hurt one," he moved her hips up ", little" he gripped at her waist, the blades stinging as they dug into her side, "bit!" With that said, he gave a very rough and quick pelvic thrust, pushing his length all the way in. Nancy's let out a piercing scream of pain, as he felt a very small snap across the tip of his length, feeling the blood rush from inside her. "My little Nancy," he groaned, as she sobbed, gasping in pain, as he began to painfully and quickly thrust his hips, moving in and out of her at a feverish pace, not caring to give her time to adjust.

It hurt! God it hurt so fucking much! Her mind and body were screaming in protect, her body twitching and her lower back aching, as he slammed into her, grunting and growling like an animal, biting at her neck, her cheek, and her lips. "Stop! Stop! M-Mr. F-Freddy it hurts!" her voice was childish, almost sounding like her younger self, as she began to cry. This only seemed to fuel him.

He yanked her up, the hands holding her down releasing her and sliding back into the mirror world, as he forced her into a Lotus position, plunging deep into her core with bruising speed, his hands moving her waist roughly to meet his thrusts as he bit at her breast.

To her sick disgust, she moaned, the sensation rising from pure pain, to an aching pleasure. She fell against his body, as she shook, grasping at his sweater, whimpering. She was in a tizzy. Her body was begging for more as her mind screamed in protest and anger and fear.

This was too much! She began to try and push away, trying to distance herself from him, only for him to roughly grab her shoulders and lift her up, turning her around, before sheathing himself inside her again at a painful thrust, her back against his chest as she shook her head and wailed as his hands reached down to her womanhood, stroking and teasing, trying to force her body to submit to him.

Her vision was a blur, as she stared forward, taking in the blurry sight before her. As he eyes adjust, they widened in disgust and pure horror, as anywhere she could look, she saw herself. She watched him work her body and plow into her core, saw his gloved hand guide her hips, to which she sickeningly realized, she was moving on her own.

She covered her eyes, crying and shaking her head. She didn't wanna see! Not this! No! She wasn't enjoying this! This was wrong! She let out a cry as her hands were ripped from her face and she was pushed onto her hands and knees, Freddy keeping his jarring, rough, pace, using his gloved hand to hold the back of her head and force her to watch.

"You're mine forever, Nancy," he whispered, his chest pressed against her back, biting at her neck as his assault became jerky and sloppy, his lust building, as Nancy felt her own desire burning as she clamped around him, tightening as she shook her head and screamed. "Stop! P-Pull out! Nooo!" He simply chuckled darkly, as he pushed her body over the edge, causing her to wail as he forced her to release. He rode out her orgasm, snarling as he soon followed, releasing inside her.

Nancy's eyes bore into the reflective image of herself. The girl staring back at her wasn't her... Not anymore. She twitched and shook as he pulled out, causing her to crash to the floor, curling slowly into a fetal position, seeing herself reflected on the floor, the ceiling, and the wall right across from her. She felt like the glass wall she had pounded her fist into; broken, but unable to repair herself like it could.

"She heard his pants zip, as he began to sink into the mirror, his body being engulfed like he was in quicksand as he chuckled, almost cackling, as Nancy covered her face and sobbed, the reflection of Freddy Krueger laughing from every mirror.

**R&R Plz**


	4. Wrong

**Disclaimer:** Do not own the movie A Nightmare on Elm Street, or any of its characters. Property of New Line/Warner Bros., Wes Craven, Platinum Dunes, and whoever else...

**Author's Note:** I decided to join the Freddy/Nancy AU with my friend Type Unique Pen Name Here, for au50 at insanejournal. I will NOT be doing this in numerical order.

**Extra Note: **This was inspired by my friends - Type Unique Pen Name Here and Zaerith Vrinn aka TypeUniqueNameHere and AwesomebyAccident from dev – and their work. I got this from _Count to Fifty and Say Goodnight_ and the "Rejects" piece that TUPNH wrote. And I got the idea from a picture that Zaerith/AbA made called "Frieda and Nancy". Go blame them for this!

**Chapter Warnings/Notes:** Yuri' language; sexual situations; possibly bad girl action since ive never done girl action...

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><p><strong>34. Wrong<strong>

"I wouldn't sit that far near the ledge," a soft but firm voice cut through her thoughts as Nancy turned from her spot on the window ledge of her school apartment to look in the doorway, "you could fall and break your neck. Really don't feel like getting a new roommate because the first died."

Nancy pushed her hair out of her face and blinked softly, watching the intruder – her new roommate – trudge through the door carrying four large duffel bags on each arm, large suitcases in each hand, and a dark brown backpack on her back, grumbling and grunting as she walked to her assigned room and unceremoniously dropped her stuff on the ground.

Nancy pulled herself to her feet and pulled her earbuds – which she just realized were in her ear with no music playing – out and tredded barefoot to the other girls door. She looked at the name tag with a smiley face – Frieda K. - before watching the girl start to unpack her belongings. She was ripping stuff out of duffel bags and tossing them around. Clothes, notebooks, books, stuffed dolls – was that a KoRn doll? - shoes, and all kinds of stuff went this way and that as Nancy awkwardly stood in the doorway.

"Hey? Think you can look in this and see if you can find my hairbands?" Nancy barely had any time to react as one of the large duffel bags was tossed at her feet. Nancy watched the girl – Frieda – go at her suitcase, before she looked at the bag and got down and unzipped it. "So can you talk or what?" the girl asked, as Nancy dugg through the bag looking for anything that resembled hairbands.

Nancy nodded before realizing that the other girl had her back to her. "Yeah. Sorry... Just tired. Um.. My name-" she didn't get to finish. "Nancy H., right? I read your name on the list when they were signing me in. You're a lot prettier than I thought you'd be. You got a kind of "lost and tortured soul" slash "reclussive gothicish" vibe and look about ya. That's cool." Nancy blinked at Frieda's directness and strange use of words. She talked almost like an old child. Her words were fast and blunt and innocent but holding meaning. It was... Odd.

"Ah! Haha! Found em!" Frieda exclaimed as she pulled out hairbands – red and green hairbands much to Nancy's shuddering horror – inside a newly bought bag. She ripped the bag open before going at her hair – brunette hair - with her fingers and dragging it back into a messy ponytail before she puleld out a brown fedora and plopped it on her head.

Nancy found herself frozen in spot as she stared at the back of Frieda's head. An image – a flash of a memory – crept across her line of vision. In Frieda's place was a man of the same height and hair color with a similar hat, his back to her. He began to turn around and Nancy blinked as Frieda appeared once again before her.

"Sooo... What were ya doing hanging by the ledge?" she asked, fixing the zipper on her blue-gray hoodie, which was somewhat dirty – used – looking. Nancy inwardly smacked herself for simply staring stupidly. "Just getting some fresh air. Watch everyone else pack their stuff inside."

A grin spread across Frieda's face and a shiver ran up Nancy's spine at how much her grin reminded her off... "Ohhh I see. Any hot ones catch your eye?" she waggled her brows and Nancy couldn't help but crack a smile. "No not really," she shrugged awkwardly. Frieda raised a brow. "Oh. Got someone back home?" she asked and Nancy didn't know why, but Frieda seemed to stiffen a little. "Uh, yeah," she answered, shaking away those – ridiculous – thoughts. "Sort of, anyway... It's complicated, you know?"

Frieda laughed and held up her hands. "Say no more. I get it. Guys are complicated shit. This is why I prefer swinging the other way." Huh? Swing the other way? Nancy furrowed her brow, mauling those words around, before realization spread across her face and she blushed. "O-Oh!" was all she could say.

"That isn't a problem, is it?" Frieda asked, as she picked up a few of the things she had been throwing around and dumped them in a corner to mess with later. Nancy shook her head quickly. "No, no! I don't have any problems with that... I've just never... Met someone so..." And again she was at loss for words. Frieda chuckled. "Relax. Never met anyone so open about it, right? Well hey whats the point in covering it up? I like what I like, ya know?"

Nancy couldn't stop herself. "But why?" she blurted out, before covering her mouth in embarrassment. Frieda shrugged. "I'unno," she grunted, "maybe my genes, maybe some weird phenomenon, maybe some lesbian cooties, who knows? I just know that I one day I realized I liked girls."

Nancy nodded, guessing that made sense. "I don't think I could. Like a girl like that, I mean," she explained, thinking out loud, shifting back and forth on her feet. Frieda gave an almost eery smile as she bent down and picked up an old and beaten up teddy bear she had tossed out of her duffel bag. "Have you ever tried?" she asked and Nancy shook her head. Of course not. She didn't see a reason for it. She liked boys – Quentin – to much to think about doing anything with a girl.

"Well," Frieda began, throwing the bear by her other stuff and pushing a few loose strands of hair from her forehead – from her eyesight – "how do you know if you haven't tried?" Nancy's eyes widen slightly as Frieda is giving her a look she can't quit read. A look that sends a weird shiver through her, before Nancy simply shrugs before excusing herself and quickly making for her room, shutting her door and locking it.

**-0-**

She hates drunk people. Hates how they smell, how they act. Hates how she's reminded of how _he_, on more than one occasion, came upstairs drunk or with a hangover. On those days he would be crueler. He wouldn't tolerate any noise – you'd be hurt if you even tried to whimper – and what little control he might have had over his sick urges were thrown to the side.

She hated drunk people. And she hated parties. To crowded and noisey and unpredictable. She felt suffocated as she was dragged through a crowd of people that had charged into a house – some guy from school named Rod – and covered every inch with bodies. Bodies that reeked of booze, body odor, sex, and vomit. Why did Frieda have to do this to her?

"You need to get out more! I swear you're like a fucking hermit who only leaves for classes and your boring job at that Diner!" Frieda yelled over the loud Eminem song. They had found a spot on Rod's downstairs couch. A beer-pong game was played on a ping-pong table by the host and some Fraternity guy who was long gone and screaming and hooting randomly. Nancy curled up and sighed as she was pushed practically into Frieda's lap.

"I'm gonna go outside!" Nancy exclaimed to Frieda over the music and hollering frats. Frieda gave her a puzzled look before she got up, ushering her on. Nancy smiled as the two made their way through the crowd once again until they had somehow ended upstairs in Rod's room. Frieda walked over to his window and pushed it open before climbing through. Nancy followed her carefully and the two sat on the roof. The thumping of the music could be heard, but for the most part it was quiet. The night was calm. It was a night that Nancy, for once, didn't fear. This was like a night of old times. Times before _he _had ruined everything.

Frieda yawned and stretched out next to her before taking a drink of her coke and rum mix. "You're an odd kid, Nancy," Frieda sighed as she sat her drink down at her side, curling one leg up to rest her arms on it and stare out at Rod's huge driveway and yard. Nancy didn't respond. Frieda had been a good friend. They'd now roomed together for half the school year – the part a celebration for first terms finals being over – and had good times. Frieda was also very understanding.

Frieda never questioned why Nancy would wake her up in the middle of the night from screaming. She'd just get her a glass of water and sit up the rest of the night with her. She didn't harp on Nancy for all the coffee and late nights she'd have sitting up in the living-room drawing or talking to an also awake Quentin on Skype. She didn't bother Nancy at all. But Nancy knew she had questions. Questions about what her nightmares were about. Why she didn't like to be touched. Why she always drew such gruesome or disturbing pictures.

But she didn't ask. And Nancy, now that she knew Frieda well enough, was actually anticipating the time she'd ask. "You can go back in if you want," Nancy said as Frieda boredly fixed her ponytail. "I'm not a party person..." Frieda laughed at that and pat Nancy on the back. "I kinda figured as much. I dragged you out here mostly to get you out of the apartment. This party isnt that great anyway. It was just all I could think of," she shrugged, giving Nancy a warm grin,

The two shared a smile before they went silent again. They sat on the roof for a few more minutes before they slid back inside, the wind growing cold and uncomfortable. Frieda fell back on Rod's bed and looked around his room as Nancy stood awkwardly. "You can sit down!" Frieda laughed, rolling over and reaching out to grab Nancy's wrist and pull her down into the bed, startling Nancy!

Nancy crashed on-top of Frieda, who laughed and rolled them until they were laying next to each other and chuckling. "S-Sorry!" Frieda breathed out through her laugh, sitting up on her elbows. Nancy just laughed and sat up. That was another good thing about Frieda... She made her laugh. Nancy hadn't truly laughed for a long time. It felt good.

The two sat in silence once again. Nancy stared out the window as she felt Frieda watching her. She jumped as she felt Frieda roll up her left sleeve to look at the large four gashes scar. She traced them and furrowed her brow. Nancy watched her as her mouth dried. "His name was Freddy," she croaked out, as Frieda removed her hand. She looked at Nancy with an unreadable expression as Nancy continued on, telling her everything. She didn't know why she told her everything – about the dreams, about Dean and the others, all of it – and she didn't know why she couldn't stop.

When she got to the end she waited for Frieda to say she was crazy or laugh and say she was a good story teller or any of the other responses that she normally got. "Damn," Frieda said, causing Nancy's jaw to almost drop. Damn? Was that all she was going to say? Damn? Nancy just stared as Frieda fixed her ponytail and pulled her hat down over her head, shadowing her bright-blue eyes slightly. "That's a sad story, little Nancy."

**-0-**

Two months. Two months since Nancy told Frieda everything... And nothing had changed. Frieda still acted like Frieda and still treated her like she always did. Nothing had changed like Nancy had thought they would. The only thing that had changed was that Frieda was always on the phone fighting with her girlfriend or her father. Nancy had never met Frieda's girlfriend – Tina was her name? - and her father she only mentioned once, stating that he was "an enigma of a guy at times".

At the moment Frieda and Tina were yelling at each other over the phone. It was ten PM and Nancy had the movie – Drive Angry – paused as she quietly waited for Frieda, curling up slightly. She hated yelling, hated fighting. She found herself drawn back to _his _fits of anger and how he would yell and throw things; just as Frieda was doing as Nancy heard another book slam into Frieda's closed door.

"Fuck you, then! Ya fucking cunt! We're done! Got it! Go sleep with any bitch you want! Fuck you!" Was the last profanity of rage Frieda snarled before her door burst open and she slammed herself down on the couch next to Nancy, who was blown back by how different Frieda looked while angry. Her skin was red, her eyes almost seeming to glow, and her face furrowed and teeth mashing. No doubt in Nancy mind; Fried was mad.

Nancy pushed her hair out of her face and turned to give her friend a look. "I'm sorry," is all she can say, all she can think to say. Frieda's form is taut as she gives a dry laugh – a rasping laugh – and growls. "You want to know what we were fighting about?" she asked, her eyes closing and opening slowly as she looked back at Nancy. "You. We were fighting about you, little Nancy," she hissed, causing Nancy to shudder. Frieda sounded so much like... But that was crazy, and she knew it.

"Me?" Nancy asked, confused. What had she done? Why were they fighting over her? The movie had gone into standby mode at this point, the icon on the DVD player bouncing around the black screen as Frieda stood up and hovered over her. Nancy shrunk down into her seat as Frieda stared down at her. It was then that Nancy took in what Frieda was wearing and her mouth dried. It was winter time and the apartments could get cold. Frieda was dressed in a sweater and dark, almost black, jeans and boots. But not just any sweater... A green and red stripped sweater.

"Yeah," Frieda began, her voice low and her eyes locked on Nancy's face. "You. Ever since we moved in together, all I can think of and talk about is you... Tina didn't like that. That's why we fought... _Little Nancy_," she hissed. Nancy felt frozen in place. Her heart was beating like a drum in her ear. Her body was shaking and her breathing hallowing. What... Was happening?

"Hey Nancy," Frieda whispered, her face coming inches from hers, eyes glowing, "do you want me to be your first lesbian experience?" Nancy's eyes widened as Frieda's mouth found hers. She couldn't move, couldn't breath. Her mind was screaming and flashing "Overboard". As soon as Frieda's mouth left hers, she leaned closer and whispered in Nancy's ear. "You never did ask me about my last name, you know?"

And Nancy's eyes widened. Frieda K... Oh God! No! F.K. Fred Krueger... Frieda Krueger... No! Tears spilled from her eyes as Nancy screamed. Frieda laughed, her voice deepening to that familiar and gut wrenching laugh mixed with her own, blood trickling down her face, and a clawed glove on her right hand. Frieda's bright blue eyes gleamed as she raised the glove up and poised at Nancy's face.

Nancy screamed and threw up her arms as the blade came down. "NO!"

**-0-**

"Hey, little Nancy? Did I say you could sleep?"

She stared up at the ceiling of the dream world as Frieda hovered over her. Her form shifted from male to female as she clawed at her skin and back handed her across the face, jolting her from passing out. She cried softly, tears smearing the blood on her face and fixing with her sweat.

Frieda – Freddy? - glared down at her as the world shifted around her. She was all at once in three places. A melted and grotesque apartment bedroom, a clean and monitored psychiatric hospital, and the secret cave. She was neither awake nor asleep anymore. Neither in one place or the other.

She couldn't do anything, either. All she could was cry. So Nancy cried.

**R & R Plz**

**Yeah this was longer and not at all how I originally planned it lol! But hey it works... Kinda lol. Poor Nancy. I fucked her up and gave her three worlds to be yanked around in. A world where Freddy is still Freddy, the waking world, and a world were Freddy is a girl, but knows that in another world she's a he... Yeah makes perfect sense right?... Yeah I know xD**


	5. Blues

**Disclaimer:**Do not own the movie A Nightmare on Elm Street, or any of its characters. Property of New Line/Warner Bros., Wes Craven, Platinum Dunes, and whoever else...

**Author's Note:**I decided to join the Freddy/Nancy AU with my friend Type Unique Pen Name Here, for au50 at insanejournal. I will NOT be doing this in numerical order.

**Extra Note: **It should also be noted that this piece was inspired by the song "Written in Blood" by _She Wants Revenge_. Pretty good song. Check it out on YouTube if you'd like. Might help ya get the feel of this. Might not. Still a good listen.

**Chapter Warnings/Notes:** Language; disturbing molestation images; creeper-ness (is that a word? Lol); AUness to the extreme!

* * *

><p><strong>46. Writer's Choice – Blues<strong>

He was an idiot... No, he was worst than an idiot. He was a fucking moron of the highest caliber! He shouldn't be here. He should leave, now! Leave before something happened. Something bad or worse! Fuck why did he have to be so pathetic! He'd left here to keep himself – to keep them; _her_– safe. Waltzing back into this town was a horrible idea... He should have stayed in Nevada...

He clapped his hands together and breathed into them. He'd forgotten how cold it could get here... It had been fifteen years, though. He was allowed to forget; he had actually tried to. He'd tried damn hard to put this state, this town, out of his mind. It was best that he forced himself to forget this place; forget _her_.

A shiver ran up his spine. It wasn't from the cold. No he wasn't that cold yet. Shaking his head, he stuffed his hands into his hoodie, trekking forward. He'd dressed as casual as he could to avoid suspicious and curious gazes. His hoodie over a green and white sweater, jeans, his old boots, and no hat. He left his fedora back in his motel room. That hat had been like a symbol for him back then; it was best to not remind others of him.

_'Then why are you here if you don't want anyone to know who you are?'_That was a good question... One he wished he could answer. He really had no clue as to why he was here. He had promised himself. He'd promised himself fifteen years ago, that he wouldn't come back here. The trials of temptation he had fought hadn't been easy. Leaving here had pained him so... But him staying would have pained others far worse than how he felt.

Mumbling incoherently to himself, he waited at a stop sign to cross the road where a coffee shop and a book store was. That was a new place. It use to be just an Antique store. He wondered, vaguely, what happened to the old woman who had worked it. She'd been the one to help him find stuff for his glove.

He quickly pushed that aside. He'd gotten rid of that thing as soon as he could. If he had stayed... What would he have done with it... No no, he couldn't keep thinking about it. Stuffing his curled fist deeper into his hoodie he crossed the street with an older woman and a few pre-teens. They were all babbling and grinning happily as they dodged around him and ran across the road. Two boys and a girl, the boys tugging and playing childishly with the hat she wore.

He envied them, really. His pre-teen years had been a hell for him. He'd been so awkward and... And so odd... Not to say he wasn't now, he thought bitterly. He was the man who related more to children than people his own age. And he was forty five now, dammit. Yeah.. He envied the ones that were normal kids that would probably grow to be normal adults with a life, a family, and friends.

Sighing, he glanced around him, taking in the familiar, but new, small town shops and roads, before making to grab the door, which was suddenly pushed open roughly, almost knocking into him! He was able to step back before he was rammed in the nose with the door, as someone gave a laugh. "Oh shit, old man! You OK? Didn't see you there," the voice exclaimed as he rubbed his knuckles where the door had jammed into.

He looked up at the male voice and felt as if ice was being shoved into his stomach. No... It... It wasn't... Was it? He stared at the young male with black hair slicked down and intense brown eyes, tanned skin, and and an almost arrogant look to his features, as an image of a small boy with similar hair color and skin stared back at him with a mischief and almost mean smile!

His body shook and he felt his mouth go dry, the ice in his stomach expanding greatly, images of the past flashing briefly before him. In the current time, the young man was looking at him with slight confusion and annoyance. "Hey... Man are you OK?" He asked again, this time sounding rude and annoyed.

"Jesse, man what are you doing in the do-?" No no no! He took a step back from the boy – from Jesse Braun – as an male with curly brown, almost black, hair and auburn eyes with hints of a trouble maker and go with the flow kinda gleam to them, pushed past Jesse to step outside, a book in his hand and one headphone in his ear.

No, no, no, no-! Both of them? Two kids from.. From back then in one day? This was bad! Very bad very very very bad... He couldn't talk. He'd lost his voice, the shock taking over him as the new young man – Quentin Smith – looked between Jesse and him, before giving a lopsided smile. "Sorry about that, sir," he pushed Jesse's arm. "Come on man lets go."

Jesse stared at him with a raised brow and grunted before the two of them began to make their way down the street, away from him. His legs shook as he backed away from the coffee shop and quickly sat on a bench nearby. His heart beat louder than a drum in his ears and wanted to burst from him! They'd grown. Jesse and Quentin had to be about twenty one or so by now... They... They still looked the same. Their baby fat and that overwhelming innocence was gone.. But they were the same.

His hands were shaking as he grasped his knee which began to bounce, flashes of the past in his eyes; the horrible – _the fun_– things he did to them all. He was always different with the boys. He- He liked to see them hurt. Liked them to feel pain... The girls he wanted to touch and see in bleed. There saltwater tears always tasted so- No!

He let out a choked sob, clutching at his head. Stop it stop it stop it! His curled fists slammed against the side of his head. He made sure not to flail about like he normally would at home. It would not be wise to have attention drawn to him. Attention that could get police involved. No it wouldn't due to have people think he was some loon who needed to be hauled off.

Controlling himself as best he could and straightening himself up, he let out a shaky breath and curled his nails into his jeans. He was a wreck. Fuck why the hell did he do this to himself? Grumbling incoherently he got to his feet and pulled his hoodie tighter around himself before heading off in what he hoped he remembered was the way to the old Springwood Diner.

Maybe some decaf coffee and something to eat would do him good. He hadn't eaten all day and it was a little past noon. With his hands stuffed in his hoodie he made his way down the street, making sure not to bump into anyone or anything. He was good at blending in. At acting normal and uninteresting. It was the reason he... It was the reason he was so good at getting away with what he'd done in the past.

He trekked on down the street, glancing at some of the new shops and flinching when a boy about seven – he almost looked like little Dean – ran into him as he ran from his mother, who apologized before picking the boy up and walking away with him. He stared at where the boy had been and grasped his hands as he shook, recalling the wiggly feel of the boy. Stop that!

He snapped forcefully to attention and quickly walked on, heading for the diner that he spotted at the end of the road before it turned off as a two way road. He stopped at a crosswalk where a few teens were texting, listening to their music, or chatting happily. His eyes traveled across the street where they landed on a couple holding hands. He shuddered and flicked his eyes to the light as walk light appeared. He walked on, doing his best to ignore the couple – Marcus Yeon and Lisa Harper – as they walked past him, both laughing and smiling.

How many more of _them _was he going to run into? Was this some punishment? He didn't believe in God, but someone or something was out to get him. Out to make him loose his mind! Springwood wasn't a big town. He knew that... But that didn't mean he should be running into _them _so easily in one day, right?

He breathed into his hands and trekked on to the diner. It was getting late outside and the sun was setting. He held the door for an elderly couple – mumbling his "you're welcome" as they thanked him – before sliding inside. He was immediately engulfed in warmth and the smell of coffee and food. His stomach growled and his mouth went dry as a waitress with stringy brown hair and dark green eyed bangs and piercing all over led him to a booth at the end of the left side of the diner. She handed him a menu and pulled out a pen and pad. "Names Eve and I can take your order. My shifts about up so someone else will bring you your food. What can I get ya?" she asked with a small smile.

"Just a coffee for now," he rasped before frowning. His throat had dried out, making his voice sound like sandpaper being rubbed together. Eve – odd name – wrote on her pad. "Decaf, caf, sugar.. Anything?" she asked and he shook his head. "Decaf... Black, please," he asked, his hands laying flat on the table. Jotting once again on her pad she nodded before giving him another smile. "If you decide you want anything to eat or whatever, just tell your new waitress. We'll have your coffee out quickly," and with that said she walked off.

Once alone he unzipped his hoodie and tugged it off. The diner had warmed him up quickly and he was sweating lightly. Out of his hoodie he was left in a his red and green sweater. It was an old sweater he'd found in one of the boxes he had never unpacked. He couldn't remember why he'd left it stashed away, so he'd opted to wear it for his visit.

Visit.. Hah. More like his punishment. The longer he was here – the more memories he dragged out – the more he felt like he was going mad! His knuckles cracked and he realized he'd been clinching the salt shaker in a death grip. Pushing it away from him, he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and rubbed them wearily. His nerves were making him tired.

He ran his hands down his face before letting them rest on the table. He stared down at his sweating and shaking palms, his attention drifting back and forth between reality and the past. "-sir? Sir?" He jumped slightly, his eyes wide and his head snapping in the direction of a female voice calling to him. His bleary eyes cleared and his nails slammed into the table. Any color left in him was drained as he stared at a blue eyed teen – almost young adult – with dark brown hair up in a ponytail. She was dressed in the red waitress outfit and stuck to her left breast by her heart was a name tag that seemed to laugh at him. "Nancy," he exclaimed in such a whisper that it was unheard as she plaed his coffee infront of him.

"You can't fall asleep in here," she said as she pulled out a pad and pen, flipping to a new page and looking at him with a weak and almost fragile like smile, "they'll kick you out." His heart was beating a mile a minute and his throat closed in on him as he drank her in. Little Nancy was all grown up. She was like a wilted flower... Blossomed but shy and withdrawn... Just as she had been as a budding child. She clicked the pen before gesturing to the menu he had yet to look at. "Would you like anything?" she asked. He had to stop himself from saying "you" as he pried his eyes from her and did a quick lookover before answering in a small voice. "Hot ham and cheese, please," he grated out, looking out the corner of his eyes to watch her jot down his order. "Will that be all?" she asked polietly and he nodded numbly.

She nodded back before reaching down to take his menu, the back of her hand brushing against his lightly, sending a shock through his body. He stifled a groan as she pulled the menu against her before walking off. His eyes trailed after her hungrily as he held his hand where her skin had brushed his. Stop it! Stop looking! He needed to stop... He couldn't do this! He groaned and held his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples, looking anywhere but at _her_.

She hadn't remembered him. Not an ounce of recognition had been in her soft gaze as she took his order. It hurt. It shouldn't hurt, though. He should find himself lucky that she didn't recognize him and throw him to the cops for all the things he'd done... Had wanted to do... Fuck but it did! It hurt! And... And it angered him. How could she forget him? He hadn't forgotten her. All these years he'd never forgotten... But she... she..

"Hey, Nancy!" He was snapped from his silent rage as he looked up and watched as a jock like male with short, almost military like style cut, hair and a grin. A grin he fully recognized. Dean Russel? He sat up in his booth to watch the now taller boy as he walked over to Nancy, who looked up and rewarded him with a warm and lively smile. A smile she once given him...

His grip on the table hardened as he watched the two smile and exchange pleasantries as he followed her around, animatedly telling her some kind of big news. He watched them almost hawk like now. When she was younger, he had use to do the same for her and Quentin. The young Smith had once had a childish crush on her – pulled her hair, poked her, chased her with bugs, and the usual small boy flirting – and he hadn't liked it.

"-So the parties going to be at my house! I know they arnt your normal scenes, but you gotta come, Nance!" he exclaimed almost boyishly as the neared his table with his meal. She gave him her work smile as she layed his food out for him, before turning back to Dean. The boy had stopped his ranting and his eager and happy expression had slowly become curious and confused as he stared straight at him.

He stiffened slightly as he looked back at him, their eyes locked. "Dean... Dean? It's rude to stare..." Nancy whispered. Placing her hand on his shoulder hesitantly. As if she were afraid to touch him or him touch her. Dean glanced at her barely before looking back at him. "Do.. I know you?" Dean asked, looking as though he were grasping at something out of his reach.

He felt his blood freeze as he shook his head. "Sorry," he rasped out, coughing to clear his throat, "don't believe we've met," he finished lamely and with force, looking away from the older boy who had once been the only kid he couldn't really catch when he ran. He'd been fast for someone so small.

Dean tilted his head and stared at him for what felt like hours before shaking his head and shrugging. Nancy glared softly at Dean before looking back to give him an apologetic sigh. "I'm sorry sir... Enjoy your meal," and with that she ushered Dean away, berating him softly as he continued to look back and stare occasionally.

"That was too close," he whispered to himself, looking down at his sandwich before finishing off his coffee quickly. He needed to get out of here. This was bad. If Dean could remember him, then the others could. All they needed was the right jar of their memories. Quickly scarfing down his meal – even if he was no longer hungry – he swallowed hard and grabbed money and placed a fairly large tip – larger than what one would normally pay a waitress at least – before walking up to pay his meal.

He was able to quickly shuffle out as Nancy walked back to his table and stared at the tip. He walked on quickly. "Sir!" he froze as he heard shuffling behind him. He refused to turn around as she stopped behind him. "Sir... This is... I mean... You don't have to pay this much..." she sounded awkward and unsure as she walked around to stand infront of him. She was just a tad taller than him now. He had to tilt his head up just slightly to look at her face.

He shook his head stiffly. "Keep it," he rasped, taking a step back from her and walking around. He didn't look back but she felt his stare on her back. He quickly crossed the street and walked and walked until he made it to the Springwood Motel and in his room, hanging his head as he shook and stared at the floor, sobbing until he threw up in the trashcan and allowed himself to pass out.

That night his dreams were not dreams but memories. Memories of Badham.

**R & R Plz**

**Well that was different, wasn't it? I know. I wanted to try a "what if" story. A "what if" Freddy had split town before the parents could find out about what he was doing kinda story. It's not that great of a Freddy/Nancy story, but I did work hard on this.**


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